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€l)e ODcean; 



THANKSGIVING SERMON. 



REV. MILES SANFORD. 



G 



THE OCEAN; 



SERMON 

^^r^arjirh nu €jinnkHgiiiing ^u\, P.mmhi 27, 1851, 



OCCASIONED BY THE 



SAD CALAMITY WHICH BEFEl THE AMERICAN FISHING FLEET 



NORTHERN SHORE OF PRINCE EDWARD'S ISLAND, OCTOBER 3d & 4tli, 1851, 



SIGNAL DELIVERANCES THERE WROUGHT. 



REV. MILES SANFORD, 

Pastor of the First Baptist Church in Gloucester, Mass. 



BOSTON : 

J. M. HE WES & CO., PRINTERS, 

81 Conihill. 

1851. 



Vii 



•GisS^ 



Gloucester, Dec. 17, 1851. 
Eev. Miles Sanford : 

Dear Sir, — The general expression of deep interest in the sermon 
preached by you on Thanksgiving Day, the 27th ult., on the part of those 
who had the privilege of listening to it, together with the belief that it is 
admirably adapted to benefit that large and interesting class of our fellow 
citizens, tor whom it was more particularly prepared, has induced us re- 
spectfully to solicit a copy for the press. 

We are yours, very truly, 

John Woodbury, 
George Garland, 
Charles C. Pettingell, 
John Pew, 
Joshua P. Trask. 



282:^ 



Gloucester, Dec. 22, 1851. 
Messrs. John Woodbury, Geo. Garland, 

Chas. C. Pettingell, John Pew, and Joshua P. Trask. 

Gentlemen, — Your note of the 1 7th inst. is received. In answer to 
your request for a copy of my Thanksgiving Sermon for the press, I have 
only to say, that with some slight changes made necessary by the hurry of 
composition, and the addition of a paragraph or two, to give greater com- 
pleteness to the closing appeal, I submit it to you as delivered. 

Praying that its publication may be a word in season to some soul care- 
less of the impressive lessons taught by the recent calamity and its wonder- 
ful deliverances, 

I am. Gentlemen, 

With much esteem, yours. 

Miles Sanford. 




SERMON. 



" TUEY THAT GO DOWN TO THE SEA IN SHIPS, THAT DO BUSINESS IN 
GREAT WATERS; THESE SEE THE WORKS OF THE LORD, AND HIS WON- 
DERS IN THE DEEP. FOR HE COMMANDETH, AND RAISETH THE STORMY 
WIND, WHICH LIFTETH UP THE WAVES THEREOF. THEY MOUNT UP TO 
THE HEAVEN, THEY GO DOWN AGAIN TO THE DEPTHS: THEIR SOUL IS 
MELTED BECAUSE OF TROUBLE. THEY REEL TO AND PRO, AND STAG- 
GER LIKE A DRUNKEN MAN, AND ARE AT THEIR WIT'S END. THEN 
THEY CRY UNTO THE LORD IN THEIR TROUBLE, AND HE BRINGETH 
THEM OUT OF THEIR DISTRESSES. HE MAKETH THE STORM A CALM, SO 
THAT THE WAVES THEREOF ARE STILL. THEN ARE THEY GLAD BE- 
CAUSE THEY BE aUIET ; SO HE BRINGETH THEM UNTO THEIR DESIRED 
HAVEN. OH THAT MEN WOULD PRAISE THE LORD FOR HIS GOODNESS, 
AND FOR HIS WONDERFUL WORKS TO THE CHILDREN OF MEN." 

Psalm cvii. 23-31. 

Agreeably to the proclamation of His Excellency the 
Governor of the Commonwealth, we have met here this 
day, to offer up to God thanksgiving and praise for the 
mercies and blessings He has conferred upon us the past 
year. 

The observance of days of Thanksgiving, and at this 
season of the year, is sanctioned by the practice of many 
nations from the earliest times. The festivals of the 
ancient Greeks, and some of their cotemporaries, Avere 
held in the fall, after gathering in the fruits of the earth, 
when, prompted by gratitude, they offered up sacrifices 
to heaven for the plenty which had abounded, accompa- 
nying them by a variety of social festivities. The Israel- 



ites had their yearly Feast of Tabernacles — a feast of 
gratitude for the fruits and vintage, and continuing eight 
days. During this time the people dwelt in booths formed 
of green branches interwoven together. The festive char- 
acter of the occasion, the mild October w^eather, the pleas- 
ant excitement of social intercourse on so large a scale, and 
the object of the gathering, were well calculated to pre- 
dispose them to thanksgiving. They sang hymns to God 
for His bounties and mercies, gave and received enter- 
tainments, which were genuine merry meetings intended 
to supply good cheer to widows, orphans, strangers, as 
well as to the offerer and his friends. Moses speaks of 
banquets like these, as rejoicings before Jehovah. The 
old Saxons had a similar custom, always setting aside 
a week after harvest for holydays ; and the festal ' ' har- 
vest-home " in England is only a continuation of the 
ancient practice. The New England festival, popularly 
denominated Thanksgiving, is the same thing, somewhat 
modified. 

The principle which underlies all these festal seasons, 
is a religious one. It is this — That men are bound, as 
the recipients of God's blessings, to return Him religious 
gratitude. Hence these Thanksgiving festivals have 
always been attended by religious rites of some kind, and 
among Christians, by those most directly calculated to 
effect the great end they propose — the offering up of true 
and sincere gratitude to God. This, indeed, is the real 
intent of our old, time-honored Thanksgiving in New 
England ; though frequently, I am sorry to say, it is 
made to play an ignoble part in ministering to the low 
recreations of the depraved — recreations unfitted alike 
either for the elevation of the mind or the benefit of the 
heart. 



Now, what can be more fitting — what more appropri- 
ate, than the sanctification of this clay to those acts which 
express gratefuhiess to God ? The fruits of the earth are 
gathered in ; the Labors of the husbandman, both on the 
land and on the ocean, have been liberally rewarded by 
the fruition of a plentiful harvest. But when to all this, 
which claims the giving back of our gratitude to God, in 
common with others, is added the great and signal deliv- 
erances, which He wrought for multitudes a few weeks 
ago, when they were so fearfully imperilled upon a dis- 
tant coast ; what more befitting than this Thanksgiving 
festival, to give expression to the emotions of our swelling 
hearts ? The gratitude of those on the .shore, to whom 
the return of friends has been like " life from the dead," 
is afresh demanded by this hardly to be expected restor- 
ation. The gratitude of those who were saved from the 
destruction of the "stormy wind" and the lifted 
" waves," when they were " at their wit's end," is also 
due to Him who made " the storm a calm," stilled the 
waves, and brought " them unto their desired haven." 

In keeping with this thought — indeed as its best ex- 
pression — is the whole language of the text. Nothing in 
the Bible so fully or fitly represents or enforces it. If 
written for lis, and specially designed as a declaration of 
our gratitude to God for what I know we all regard as 
a most glorious display of the Divine goodness to us, it 
could not have more aptly represented our case. 

While the ocean is an object of interest to all men, 
instructing them, as it does, in God's wisdom, great- 
ness and power, it has an especial interest to us — an 
interest it cannot have to those who are engaged in 
agriculture and the mechanic arts. Mani/ of us have 
relatives — fathers, husbands, brothers and sons — and all 



of US friends, who " do business in great waters." The 
treasures of the ocean are our stock in trade, the source 
of our comforts, hixuries and Avealth. The ocean is the 
theatre of our enterprise. On the decks of our stanch 
vessels, which fly like the eagle hastening to his prey, 
we see " the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the 
deep." We are delighted by the glories of the ocean — 
glories which speak to us of the wisdom of Him who 
" holdeth the waters in the hollow of His hand." We 
are awed by its perils — perils which give us a view of 
His power scarcely matched by any other in the entire 
realm of nature. Come then, and let us contemplate the 
ocean in the three views presented in the text. 

I. As a forcible instructor to those that " go down to 
the sea in ships," of God's wisdom, greatness, and power. 

II. In the effect its exhibition of God's works and 
wonders produces upon those who thus behold it. 

III. The thanksgiving and praise due Him from those 
He delivers from the dangers of the sea. 

I. While the ocean is a most impressive illustration, 
and, therefore, a most forcible instructor of the Divine 
wisdom, greatness and power, to all who dwell upon its 
shores, as well as all who are acquainted with the ten 
thousand wonders it discloses, it is especially so to those 
who are said to "go down to the sea in ships." '■'■These 
see the works of the Lord and His wonders in the deep," 
to an extent and in a way which far surpass, in every 
thing that constitutes impressiveness, any viev/ it presents 
to him who has never sailed upon its waters or explored 
its depths. The difference between the two, is the dif- 
ference between an almost utter ignorance of what the 
ocean is, and an every-day converse with it in its beauty 
and grandeur, its majesty and awfulness ; or, what is the 



same thing, in other words, the difference between read- 
ing a description of it, and looking upon its wonders, and 
listening to its thousand murmurings of God day after 
day. But my object is not to show the advantages which 
those who go upon the ocean have over those upon the 
shore, for seeing and knowing the works of the Lord ; it 
is rather to exhibit the ocean as a forcible instructor to 
seamen of God's wisdom, greatness and power. 

Every thing which shows marks of contrivance and 
skill, is an indication of wisdom. On what a scale of 
greatness, then, does the ocean indicate to seamen, and 
others who are conversant with the sea, the wisdom of 
Him who stills the raging of the waters, and binds 
them in a garment.* When they reflect that the ocean 
they traverse day by day, is filled with fish, from the 
"leviathan"! which "plays therein," and breaks in 
pieces the thick-ribbed ship, to those so small that the 
eye can hardly see them, and which are very weakness 
itself ; that in numbers, beauty, size and strength, they 
present an almost infinite variety ; that many of them 
are for food, and that the supply is inexhaustible ; that 
others furnish light, by which the student at night reads 
on the page of science of the wonders and mysteries 
they see, — when they look upon the shells which are 
scattered in caves, once filled with the waters of the 
ocean, or lie half buried in the sand upon its shores, with 
their variety of shape, their difference of size, their exquis- 
iteness of coloring, their smoothness of surface, — when 
they consider that it is the ceaseless exhalations of the 
sea that form every cloud, supply every spring, and fill 
every river that bears back the gathered drops to their 

* Prov. 30:4. f P^a- ^^^'- 26. 



parent bed ; that these exhalations give fertility to the 
earth, growth to its plants, and tints to its flowers, — 
when all these things receive their attention, as receive it 
they do, they are made acquainted with wonders wdiicli 
proclaim to them the contrivance and skill by which such 
an ocean was formed. They are thus forcibly instructed 
in the w^isdom of that God who is above and around them. 

In the Bible they learn that God has given the sea his 
" decreed place," and set around " bars and doors, and 
said, Hitherto shalt thou come but no further, and here 
shall thy proud waves be stayed " ;* declarations which 
proclaim to them God's greatness, wisdom and powder. 
Now w^herever they go on the ocean, they see the proofs 
of their truth, and the whole representation becomes con- 
firmed. Every shore they visit is an evidence that the 
sea has his "decreed place," his "bars and doors." And 
though the angry storm may hurl the waters upon the 
land, they know that the shore shall lift up against them 
its everlasting defences, its chain of rock and sand, say- 
ing, " Hitherto shalt thou come but no further, and here 
shall thy proud waves be stayed." How forcibly there- 
fore are they who "go down to the sea in ships," taught 
the wisdom, greatness and power of God. 

The ocean gives to the sailor an idea of vastness. So 
does the mighty plain, upon which he sometimes travels ; 
but not like the ocean. When only a few miles from the 
shore, he is upon a vast plain of waters whose only boun- 
dary is the circling sky. And when he reflects that 
what his eye takes in is scarcely equal to a hundred 
thousandth part of what it cannot ; that the ocean covers 
a surface three times greater than the land ; what an idea 

* Job :iS : 8-11. 



of vastness must impress itself upon him, as he roams 
over his home of waters. If, as philosophy has demon- 
strated, each drop of water has 20,000,000 of parts, how 
illimitable, I had almost said, the aggregate of watery 
particles which make up the sea, covering, as it does, an 
area of almost 150,000,000 of square miles, and extend- 
ing to depths no measuring-line has ever fathomed ! 
What a world of waters are piled in its depths, heave on 
its surface, and dash on its shores ! Now they who " do 
business in great waters," live amid all this vastness — -a 
vastness which is constantly graving itself into their souls 
in characters which time can never wear out, nor memo- 
ry forget. Between these mighty facts as a premise, and 
God's greatness as a conclusion, there is but a single 
step, and that step one that the facts themselves will 
compel, I might almost say, the 7nost illiterate to take, of 
all who adventure themselves upon the sea. It is this — 
If the ocean itself be thus great, what must He be who 
dug its deep fountains with His hand, traced its shores 
with His finger, and filled its reservoirs with water ! Is 
it not so 1 When you have thought of the ocean in its 
magnitude, as thought you have, has not that other 
thought. — God is infinitely greater than all this, come 
upon you with a grandeur and a power that were over- 
whelming ? 

But it is not in all this, that the ocean most forcibly or 
directly speaks to those who "go down to the sea in 
ships," of "the works of the Lord, and His wonders in 
the deep." An ocean storm more fearfully and impres- 
sively discloses God's greatness and power than any 
thing else ; more even than any storm on land, however 
terrible. When God " commandeth and raiseth the 
stormy wind which lifteth up the waves thereof, they 

•2 



10 

mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths, 
their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and 
fro and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their 
wit's end." A description whose truth to fact none 
knows better than the maViner — than some whom I now 
address. Look at the heavens. They are clear and 
serene. The sky wears its deep azure. The waters are 
quiet, and transparent as crystal. Their depths give 
back as a mirror, ship and sky and shore, revealing in the 
reversed images a world below^, almost as distinctly as 
the clear air does a world above. The winds are at rest ; 
and wherever the eye reaches, the ships lie motionless 
upon the waters. That is the calmness of nature. But 
anon the heavens begin to put on haze, and here and 
there a cloud flecks the sky. The winds puff out the 
lazy sails, and the sluggish ship once more moves on 
her course, while the gentle cadences of the parted 
waters melt into the soul in tones of musical sweetness. 
A storm is mustering its forces for the elemental conflict. 
The winds are every moment gathering strength, and are 
already lifting up the waves. Now% they are down in 
their fury ! The breath of God is upon the sea ; and its 
mighty masses move in surging mountains, and yawn in 
frightful valleys. The winds howl in their madness, and 
roar in the tones of the tempest. How the showering 
spray leaps from the breaking waves into the watery 
valleys, as the hurricane thunders on over the waters. 
Rocks, which no human power could lift from their rest- 
ing-places, are torn from their strong foundations, and 
thrown upon the shore as if they had been pebbles. But 
where are the ships wdiich a few hours ago lay upon the 
bosom of the ocean like the sleeping infant ? Frightened 
like doves in the tempest, they are mounting up the steep 



11 

sides of the walled waters to the heavens, or plunging 
into the deep abyss below. Some have outrode the storm. 
Others, in running for the sheltering port, have struck 
upon some treacherous bar or hidden rock. Others are 
carried down into the boiling waters hke drops of rain, 
and all on board 

" Sink into [their] depths with bubbling groan, 
Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown." 

Others are stranded, and broken up by the surf, while 
their crews, whose shrieks and cries for help are as so 
many whispers, scarcely heard amid the voices of the 
storm, are tossed upon the shore lifeless lumps of clay. 
But ! what is human language to describe what cannot 
be adequately described when sea and sky are brought 
together, and the strong ships are destroyed by the breath 
of the Almighty ? Words are tame upon such a theme ; 
tame to describe what must be seen and known to be real- 
ized and understood. 

Having considered the ocean as a forcible instructor to 
those that " go down to the sea in ships," of God's wis- 
dom, greatness and power, I pass to notice, 

II. The effects which its exhibition of God in these 
several particulars, produces on those who thus behold it. 
Among the effects produced upon thinking mariners, 
as they witness " the works of the Lord, and His wonders 
in the deep," are reverence and awe, not always sufficient, 
and perhaps seldom, to prevent some from profaning 
God's name. Still they must admire— they ^o— God's 
wisdom, greatness and power, as illustrated by the vast- 
ness of the ocean, and its uses, as seen in its exhalations, 
and for the purposes of commerce. This admiration leads 
to reverence and awe. But whatever are the effects pro- 



12 

duced upon those who see the works of the Lord in the 
ocean, one thing is certain — its fierce storms are often 
the means, under God, of making a deep religious im- 
pression upon careless and wicked mariners, genuine in its 
character and lasting in its duration. When reeling to 
and fro and staggering like drunken men ; when ' ' at 
their wit's end," and charts and compass, and a bold 
crew, and nautical skill are all baffled, and their wisdom 
has become folly ; then " their soul is melted because of 
trouble;" and " they cry unto the Lord." A man on 
the ocean, when there is no danger, is apt, like others, to 
be careless regarding God and the claims of eternity. 
But it seems to me, that indifference upon these solemn 
subjects among seamen^ is less excusable than in others ; 
though by this I do not mean to say that any one is ex- 
cusable in turning away from any exhibition of God's 
character made known to him either in nature or grace. 
In addition to the ordinary disclosures unfolded to them 
in the gospel of Jesus Christ, which they have in common 
Avith others, they have " the works of the Lord and His 
wonders in the deep," which can be fulhj realized by 
none as themselves. But with all this, seamen, like 
others, steel their hearts against God. But when trouble 
comes, how they are changed ! Then poor, puny man 
sees his weakness, and feels his guilt in casting off fear 
and restraining prayer. Then the hardened soul is melt- 
ed. Eternity is too near for indifference ; and a disre- 
garded God has spoken too loud for the closed ear to be 
deaf. And if there is one place more than another, that 
produces reverence for God's name among the profane, 
and makes him pray who never prayed before, it is the 
deck of a disabled ship in momentary danger of destruc- 
tion. Then men " cry unto the Lord." It is the hour 



13 

of trouble ; and human weakness and God's sufficiency 
are revealed under aspects which overwhelm the endan- 
gered soul. It is an old saying, " Let them that would 
learn to pray, go to sea." When the heathen mariners, 
who had charge of the ship in which the disobedient Jo- 
nah was fleeing to Tarshish, were overtaken by a storm, 
they " cried every man to his god ;" and so proper and 
necessary was it, in their judgment, that aid for deliver- 
ance should be sought for to some controlling power, that 
they awakened the sleeping Jonah, saying " unto him, 
What meanest thou, sleeper ? Arise, call upon thy 
God, if so be that God will think upon us, that we perish 
not." * Prayer at such a time is most certainly appro- 
priate ; it is more — it is a duty. And though in many 
instances the discharge of the duty may be extorted from 
the trembling soul on account of the threatening danger, 
and the guilt Avhich reveals to itself its want of prepara- 
tion to appear before an insulted and rejected Christ ; 
still in others, it comes from a Christian heart Avhich 
adores God, and resorts to Him as a present help in time 
of trouble. " Call upon me in the day of trouble," f is 
the direction of the Christian sailor's heavenly Father — a 
direction his sense of duty to his Sovereign, his love to 
his Saviour, and his necessities lead him to obey. 

The next, and last particular brought to view in the 
text, is 

III. The thanksgiving and praise due to God from 
those He delivers from the dangers of the sea. 

It gives to those thus delivered no less an instructive 
and impressive view of God's greatness and power, that 
He who raises the storm can put it to rest. " The Lord 

* Jonah 1:6. f Psa. 50: 15. 



14 

on. high is mightier than the noise of many waters, yea, 
than the mighty waves of the sea." * " Thou rulest the 
raging of the sea : Avhen the waves thereof arise, thou 
stillest them." f " He maketh the storm a calm, so that 
the waves thereof are still." What astonishing exhibi- 
tions of Almighty power are here set forth. God takes 
the wild winds, with which He hath lifted up the waters, 
into His fists, and treads down the huge billows. 

The ultimate result, alluded to in our text, is a deliv- 
erance granted in answer to the prayer of those who are 
in peril. ' ' They cry unto the Lord in their trouble ; he 
bringeth them out of their distresses. Then are they 
glad because they be quiet ; so he bringeth them unto 
their desired haven." The duty of those to whom God 
grants such marked deliverances, and for whom He has 
made bare his mighty arm, is plain : ' ' Let them sacrifice 
the sacrifices of thanksgiving, and declare his works with 
rejoicing." | We wonder not that the Psalmist should 
say from a full and overcharged heart, " that men 
would praise the Lord for His goodness, and for His won- 
derful works to the children of men." Life is dear ; 
home is precious ; and he to Avhom God gives a new 
lease of the one, and the privilege of greeting the loved 
objects of his affection in the other, that can refuse a 
tribute so just and so reasonable, is guilty of an ingrati- 
tude as monstrous as it is strange. 

The thanksgiving and praise suggested by these deliv- 
erances and taught as a duty those owe to God for whom 
they have been accomplished, are not the cold expression 
of the lips, playing around the head and never touching 
the heart. They are not songs in the sanctuary, and the 

* Psa. 93 : 4. f Psa. 89 : 9. J Psa. 107 : 22. 



15 

bended knee before the throne, when the soul is all can- 
kered with a spirit of worldliness. God will accept no 
such halt and lame sacrifices as these for thanksgiving 
and praise. He wants the glowing affection and the 
earnest life. He therefore calls the rescued to lay them- 
selves on the altar of consecration for a whole burnt- 
offering and a sweet-smelling savor unto the Lord. The 
thanksgiving and the -pYnise He requires are, I repeat it, 
sanctified hearts and lives, Avhich shall flow back to him. 
He asks a gratitude which shall exceed all earthly grati- 
tude, and surpass it in its warmest manifestations, as the 
sun outshines the stars. 

CONCLUSION. 

The subject just discussed, though interesting at any 
time, is peculiarly so to us at the present ; an intimation 
in which I am undoubtedly anticipated by all before me. 
The catastrophe to which I briefly alluded at the opening 
of this discourse, is too recent, and too disastrous to all 
that makes life beautiful, or bright, or affecting, to need 
any poor words of mine, to quicken your recollection or 
arouse your reflection. Still, a recital of the more promi- 
nent events thereof, and a consideration of the practical 
thoughts they naturally suggest, Avill not, I trust, be 
without interest or profit. 

Scarcely eight weeks have gone by, since the dreadful 
disaster occurred in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, which has 
carried mourning and desolation to so many firesides in 
New England. The third and fourth days of October, 
1851, will not soon be forgotten either by the survivors 
or their friends. The afternoon of the 3d is spoken of by 
those who were in the Gulf, as having been warm and 



16 

still. Though the sky ^Yas heavily clouded, no indica- 
tions of the approaching tempest were apparent, except- 
ing a lurid brassy appearance to the north and northwest 
about sunset, regarded in the West Indies as the sure 
harbinger of a hurricane. An hour or so after sunset, 
the wind commenced blowing from the southeast. About 
ten o'clock at night it hauled into the east, where it re- 
mained till next day afternoon, Avhen, changing into the 
northeast, it became a most violent gale, which continued 
w^ith almost unabated force until nearly noon, on Sunday 
the 5th. 

A few miles from the north shore of Prince Edward's 
Island, and about midway between the extreme horns of 
its bend — the curvature of the shore being in shape like 
a crescent — were some three hundred and fifty or four 
hundred fishing vessels. The harbors on the coast being 
difficult of access at any time, on account of the bars 
which 'stretch across their several mouths, and without 
lights, their entrance at night, or in a storm, is almost 
impossible. As the wind blew a fierce gale from the 
northeast, and most of the fleet lay down in the deepest 
part of the shore's indentation, where the water is shoal 
and the sea ran mountain high,* their situation was most 
desperate, as the sad sequel proved. He who raised the 
" stormy wind," find lifted " up the waves," drives that 
fleet into the midst of the impending perils of this dread- 
ed lee shore ; while the difficulties of their position are 

* This is no exaggeration. The following statement, from the schooner 
Edwin, of Newburj-^port, sustains the remark. She says, that when work- 
ing along the north shore of Prince Edward's Island towards East Cape, in 
compan)' with a Gloucester vessel, during the gale, she could see nothing of 
her Avhen in the trough of the sea, though not more than three hundred 
yards distant. Similar statements are made by others, regarding the great 
height of the .sea in a severe storm. 



HT 



17 

every moment thickening, and gathering to the destroy- 
ing point, the dangers about them. Now " their soul is 
melted because of trouble ; they reel to and fro and stag- 
ger like a drunken man, and are at their wit's end. Then 
they cry unto the Lord in their trouble." There was 
prayer in that fleet, during those dark and terrible hours, 
from multitudes who before had only profaned the name 
of God, though there were many there, I trust, who loved 
and revered it. Their prayer was heard ; and he who 
sends the winds abroad to do His will, and imprisons 
them at pleasure, "delivered them out of their dis- 
tresses." But others cry to God in vain. Their deter- 
mined days and their numbered months have run out, and 
they have reached the utmost limit of their appointed 
bounds.* Before thirty hours have passed, one-fourth of 
that fleet is destroyed, and a hundred and fifty stiffened 
corpses are sleeping beneath the waters, and cast upon 
the shore. t Several vessels founder at their anchors, 
while the crews are swept from the decks or drowned in 
the cabins. Others dash against each other in the fierce 
strife of the elements, and go down, ships and crew, into 
the torn and frantic ocean, like lead ; the deep waters 
rolling over them as if nothing had happened. 

As soon as the intelligence reached Pictou, it was tele- 



* Job 14 : 5. 

f The whole number of vessels driven ashore and lost, Is not far from 
seventy-five ; and the actual loss of life, as near as can be ascertained, about 
one hundred and fifty persons. Some families have suffered severely. 
Capt. George Wixon, of Harwich, Mass., lost four sons. He recovered the 
bodies of three, and the body of the fourth came ashore, it is supposed, but 
so mutilated that it could hardly be identified. On board the Actor, of 
Newburyport, which has not been heard from since the gale, and is proba- 
bly lost, were six persons belonging to Seabrook, N. H. ; and in three in- 
stances — the whole — they were father and son. 
3 



18 

graphed to Boston, and in a short time borne to every 
fishing town in New England. As at first received, the 
news Avas provokingly indefinite and ambiguous — the 
number of vessels stranded or foundered ranging from one 
hundred to two hundred, and the lives lost, from three 
hundred to five hundred. But what vessels had suffered, 
and who were lost, was enveloped in a painful uncer- 
tainty, to which the accounts of several subsequent days 
added but little information, either reliable or definite. 
The excitement of course became intense. The feelings 
awakened, the fears aroused, the solicitude manifested, 
exceeded any thing I ever saw. Upon every arrival of 
the mail or cars, the eager inquiry was, " Is there any 
news from the Bay ? " Indeed, this was almost the only 
question asked for days. In every street, in every house, 
in every shop, in every store, in every office, on every 
wharf, it was the one all-absorbing topic of conversation. 
The probability of this rumor, and the improbability of 
that, Avere discussed and looked at from every possible 
point of view. The fiicts of to-day were contradicted 
to-morrow, and what to-day was startling rumor which 
made men hold their breath in terror, became next day 
awful realities, bearing desolation in their train, covering 
stricken families with the pall of mourning, and filling 
their hearts with a grief which drank up the spirits. 
Some took surmises for realities ; and their imaginations, 
wild and excited, and drifting hither and thither, like the 
dismantled ship in the tempest, filled them with feelings 
bordering on despair. 

But as great as this calamity was to multitudes abroad, 
it has fallen but lightly on this community. Though the 
loss of property and life probably exceeds, as a whole, 
that of any similar disaster, the loss of either, here, has 



19 

been comparatively small.* The actual loss in property 
has not, I learn, been greatly in advance of the cost of 
an ordinary insurance. Of the many hundreds of our 
citizens and neighbors who were in the storm, but four- 
teen J are certainly known to have been lost, though the 
crew of another vessel | have undoubtedly passed into 

" That inidiscovered country, from whose bourn 
No traveller returns." 

Five of the fourteen are buried on the desolate island of 
Margaree.§ The rest have gone down to an ocean grave, 
with the w^aters for their winding-sheet, while over them 
the hoarse north winds and the gentle south shall play 
their funeral dirge, till the morning of the resurrection 

* The Avhole number of vessels belonging to the Gloucester fleet, within 
the Gut of Canso at the time of the gale, was 112, which, with 19 belonging 
to Annis-Squam and Rockport, and a dozen or so to other places, but fitted 
out from Gloucester, made the whole number from the District of Glouces- 
ter over 140. Of this number, probably from 110 to 115 were within 
range of the storm. Onl}' six of these were lost, viz., the Daniel P. King, 
Eleanor, Red Wing, Garland, Flirt, and Princeton — the last two losing 
their entire crews, 24 men. 

"I" The crew of the Flirt. Their names and residence are as follows : — 
Aaron Stubbs, Master, and Wm. Forbes, of Gloucester; Jos. Chandler, 
John Stubbs, Hugh Harden, Edward Mouser, Win. Dauphney, and George 
Fenley, of Liverpool, N. S. ; Stephen Nickerson, of Argyle, N. S. : Dean 
W. Woodbury, and JNIr. Smith, of Rockport ; Mr. Shaw, of York, Me. ; 
and two, of Chatham, whose names are iniknown. 

J The Princeton. As nothing has been heard from her since the gale, 
she is undoubtedly lost, with all her crew, ten in number. The following 
are their names and residence : — Thomas Guard, master, Charles Wonson, 
Jr., and John Gerring, Jr., of Gloucester ; Peter Shean, and W. W. Shean, 
of Mai-blehead ; Solomon IMehlman, John Morrissey, and Wm. Duffy, of 
Boston ; Arnold jNIason, of Eastport, Me. ; and Warren Pinkham, of Edge- 
comb, Me. 

§ A small island laid down upon the chart as Seal Island, twenty-one 
miles northeast of Port Ilood, Ca])e Breton, and about three miles from its 
western shore. 



20 

shall call them from their sepulchres. But by far the 
larger mimber of those in peril have been brought " unto 
their desired haven." You have been restored to your 
families and friends, some of you almost miraculously ; 
and they and you have had your prayers answered. ' It 
was your strong desire to see them again ; it was theirs 
to see you. God has granted the privilege to you both. 
He has been better to you than your fears. Is it not 
your duty, therefore, to return Him thanksgiving and 
praise ? He delivered you who " go dow^n to the sea in 
ships," when you were " at your wit's end," and there 
w\as only a plank between you and death. He hushed the 
thunder of the tempest, and smoothed the billows under 
your feet. He gave the Avinds and waves charge con- 
cerning you, and brought you in safety " unto [your] 
desired haven." He has permitted you to meet in this 
sanctuary to-day, that you may mingle your prayers and 
your praises for the deliverances He has wrought for you. 
*' Exalt Him [then] in the congregation of the people, 
and praise Him in the assembly of the elders. Sacrifice 
[to-day] the sacrifices of thanksgiving, and declare His 
works with rejoicing." 

To these reasons for the exercise of gratitude and the 
service of Him who has delivered you, permit me to add 
another — your own pledges. I have already spoken of 
the prayers which were offered up in this fearful storm. 
Pledges, too, were given. If all the thoughts which 
filled the souls of the endangered multitudes through 
those dreadful hours of terror and dismay, could be made 
to pass before us, we should see written out in imperish- 
able characters upon the records of an undying, but 
already slumbering memory — vows of love to God, rever- 
ence for His name and Word, and consecration to Christ. 



21 

You promised God, that if He would save you, your 
hearts, your lives, your all, should henceforth be His. 
Have these promises been fulfilled ? — these vows been 
redeemed ? The same ear which heard your prayers 
when they rose above the tempest and the storm, also 
heard your promises and vows. 

But those who were rescued from a watery grave are 
not alone in this matter. Many on the shore solemnly 
promised God, that if He would restore to them their 
friends, they would ever after be Christ's. Unrepenting 
sinners promised to forsake their sins, and live for that 
world whose glorious realities had hitherto received so 
little of their notice. In the hour of these vows, this 
world seemed little to live for. Sublunary vanities ap- 
peared in their true light ; as too small and trivial to 
engross a soul destined to exist forever. But how is it 
now ? Where are your pledges ? Are they forgotten 1 
I fear, alas ! that they have even now ceased to occupy 
your thoughts, and that the attractions of the world, now 
that the danger is past, and your friends have returned, 
have hid them from your eyes. 

Here then you are, with these vows upon your souls. 
You who have been saved, and you who have received 
the saved back in safety, are here, the monuments of 
God's delivering and defending Providence, and the re- 
cipients of his marvellous mercies ; and yet you refuse 
to redeem the pledges you gave in the hour of trouble. 
Such conduct to an earthly benefactor you would pro- 
nounce monstrous. There is not one of you who would 
traduce the name of an earthly savior, or speak of it pro- 
fanely, or decline the fulfilment of any promise you had 
made him. ! is it less criminal to profane, as I fear 
some of vou do, the Name of your Heavenly Father, of 



22 

Him who " rebuked the winds and the sea ;" or to per- 
sist, as I fear many of you do, in violating your own 
solemn pledges, binding upon you religiously and in 
honor ? 

It is a most affecting thought, that the continued viola- 
tion of these pledges will aggravate your guilt, harden 
your hearts, and increase that carelessness which has 
already become so alarming and ominous of danger. And 
it is a sadder thought still, that this stupefying process 
will go on, benumbing your conscience, your judgment, 
and your sense of obligation, till, in your impiety, you 
will laugh at the fears which were awakened in the storm, 
and pour scorn upon the very promises you made there — 
promises which, had they been fulhlled, would have 
covered you w4th an enduring glory and filled you with 
"the peace of God, which passeth all understanding." 
No longer then refuse the payment of the debt of grati- 
tude you owe to God, or the redemption of the promises 
you honestly and sincerely made. If you obey the truth, 
trusting in the righteousness of "God your Saviour," 
" eternal life" shall be your portion and your blessing. 
"But unto them that do not obey the truth, but obey 
unrighteousness ; indignation and wrath, tribulation and 
anguish to every soul of man." 



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